


If you're waiting all your life, you won't ever go

by failurebydesign



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:46:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14247336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failurebydesign/pseuds/failurebydesign
Summary: “Try to get some sleep,” Tito says, eyes reflecting the same exhaustion that Mat feels. “And don’t forget we’re going over to Ebs’ house for dinner tomorrow night. His wife is cooking—”“Wife?” Mat tries not to, but a laugh slips out anyway.“Yes, Mat, wife. They got married last summer, remember?”( Or, Mat wakes up in a life that's not his. )





	If you're waiting all your life, you won't ever go

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you found this upon googling, exit immediately. This is a complete work of fiction and in no way am I implying that anything written in here is true. Stories are not meant to be circulated or shared with those written in them. All is loosely based on some real events, that is all. 
> 
> Thanks to Lotts for yelling at me both in the doc and over snap, reading it and editing the mess that it was prior. Surprise fic finished just in time for glazedsun's birthday!

They lose. Again. 

The locker room is silent enough to hear a pin drop. If Mat had one, he’d test that theory. It’s not how he expected his first full season to go. He knows it’s bad when even their coach refuses to speak to the media.

Mat tries not to take it to heart, but that’s not how his heart works.

He lost, they lost. Their season is just about finished.

A few one word answers later, Mat sucks it up and walks away.

Tito calls his name. It comes from somewhere behind him, floating over the heads of the media personnel. He can’t see him and hopes that Tito doesn’t see him, either. Blowing Tito off wasn’t exactly what he planned, but the idea of going out for drinks—pity drinks, he calls them on nights like these—is pretty low on the list of things he wants to do.

Mat thinks he hears his name once more, closer, but ignores that, too. He’ll text Tito later, he tells himself, before pushing his way outside.

***

It isn’t like Mat goes right to bed when he gets home.

The rain is the loudest he’s heard in a long time and the thunder that follows makes the whole foundation feel like it’s shaking beneath his feet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the ground was getting ready to swallow him up whole right then and there.

Mat texts Tito a quick apology— plays it off as a headache and ends it with, “raincheck, bro.” He hits send approximately the same time he feels his head finally hit the pillow, closes his eyes, and lets the sounds of the storm lull him to sleep.

He must be asleep for a full three, four hours before a loud clap of thunder jars him out of a sound sleep. There’s a quick thumping in his chest that doesn’t settle until he regains his senses and he realizes he’s safe, it’s just a storm.

“Mathew?” a soft voice that he only recognizes as Tito’s, sleepy and confused, calls out to him.

The bed shifts— not him, Tito.

“Did we go to the bar?” Mat doesn’t remember going out. He recounts his steps—leaving Barclays, kicking off his shoes, climbing into bed, texting Tito. Tito. He doesn’t remember getting a text back, doesn’t remember Tito coming over, either.

“No?” Tito moves forward and the slightest sliver of moonlight illuminates his concerned-looking face. “Do you have a fever?”

Mat shuts his eyes. It’s a dream, he thinks, or at the very least, hopes, because if he finally admitted to the ridiculous crush that’s been consuming him for months, finally hooked up with Tito and doesn’t remember it— 

Tito touches his cheek, then forehead with the back of his hand. It’s oddly familiar, though Mat swears it’s a line they’ve never crossed before. Shared beds, on accident, now and again, but never a touch that has felt quite and intimate as this. 

“Let me get you some water.”

Mat sits up, blinks a few times when Tito flips the light switch on and gives his eyes a moment to adjust. When they do, he’s faced with way more than he bargained for. This looks like his room, feels like his room, but it is, without a doubt, _not_.

He’s out of bed the second Tito leaves the room. There’s extra clothes added to the piles of his—Tito’s clothes, and belongings that are scattered about which he knows aren’t his—also Tito’s. Every which way he looks _feels_ like home, but altered slightly with what he can only describe of as a sprinkling of Tito.

It’s the framed photo on the wall that makes his heart leap up into his throat.

The familiar photo of Mat and his family, that summer in Coquitlam before the draft, is gone. Instead, he finds himself looking at a photo of him and Tito, head to toe in tuxes, arms locked. It takes him all of two seconds to realize what it is—a wedding photo.

Tito’s smile is wide and his happy, half-squinted eyes are focused on Mat. And Mat—he’s looking back at Tito with a matching smile and ridiculously lovesick look in his eyes that’s advertising one thing to the world: Tito’s hung the moon for him.

It’s a prank, Mat thinks. It has to be. He doesn’t know how Tito managed to rearrange all of his things and he has to admit that while it has to be some kind of photoshop, the wedding photo is a nice, realistic-looking touch.

“Hey,” Tito says, leaning in the doorway with a glass of water in hand. “Here, have some.”

“Thanks.” Mat takes the glass, holds it with both hands and nearly drops it when the glint of something metal on his left ring finger catches his eyes. The wedding ring.

Tito’s head tilts, like he senses something very wrong. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Mat says in a tone that he knows isn’t convincing. It’s a little confusing and a whole lot of painful when Tito looks at him, eyes reminiscent of those in the photo hanging to his right. Tito ( _real_ Tito) has looked at him this way before, but it’s never made Mat’s heart skip a beat quite like this. 

Mat finishes the glass of water, sets it on the nightstand and turns to face Tito again. 

“What day is it?”

“Thursday,” Tito replies, eyebrow raised. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Thursday. That’s the same, Mat tells himself.

“Yeah,” he repeats, despite feeling as if he’s in some sort of twilight zone.

“Try to get some sleep,” Tito says, eyes reflecting the same exhaustion that Mat feels. “And don’t forget we’re going over to Ebs’ house for dinner tomorrow night. His wife is cooking—”

“Wife?” Mat tries not to, but a laugh slips out anyway.

“Yes, Mat, wife. They got married last summer, remember?”

None of it clicks because Ebs—Jordan, is pretty gay. He’s not technically out of the closet or anything, but he’s got a long distance boyfriend who also plays hockey. Mat’s met him a few times and Jordan isn’t exactly secretive.

“Oh, yeah,” Mat says. A blatant lie. It’s a prank, he reminds himself. Maybe if he goes along with it, Tito will crack.

“Good. Can we go back to bed now?” Tito’s fingertips skirt along the waistband of Mat’s sweatpants, stopping to rest at his hip. It’s gentle, without any ulterior motives, intended to soothe.

Mat leans in, unconsciously, and thinks that maybe it’s what he’s meant to do. Tito is soft with him, gentle and when Tito presses a kiss to Mat’s chin, Mat doesn’t push him away.

If it’s not a dream, he has a lot to figure out in the morning.

***

Mat wakes up, bed sans Tito and tells himself it was all a dream. Then, he hears a little rustle of pans coming from the kitchen and a wave of uncertainty bubbles up.

He has to take a deep breath before he turns to the portrait on the wall. The wedding photo remains.

Mat doesn’t think he’s ever looked happier, even if it’s some sort of sick joke.

And that’s what he tells himself it is when he climbs out of bed—one big, unfunny prank.

Because how would he explain otherwise?

Tito is cheerful, whisking a big bowl of something and humming to himself when Mat makes his way into the kitchen. 

“Sleep okay?” Tito lifts his head, but continues to stir.

“Yeah, I just,” Mat starts, but doesn’t quite know to finish. “Weather.”

Tito nods.

And Tito can cook. He doesn’t remember Tito ever being able to do more than boil water, sort of. Last time he tried, the pot bubbled over and the bottom burnt. Sure, it’s just some eggs and delicate, fluffy pancakes, but Mat doesn’t remember the last time he’s eaten something in the kitchen that hadn’t spent two minutes in the microwave first.

Mat eats, happily, because despite his confusion, he’s also starving. Tito eats, too, but then he washes the dishes and Mat knows that Tito has to be screwing with him.

“When did you learn how to wash a dish?” Mat sets his plate in the sink.

“Okay, rude,” Tito says and continues washing. “I made you breakfast!” 

Mat thinks he’s actually offended him, but then Tito shuts off the water, turns around and laughs. 

“Yeah, okay, well I thought about leaving them for you, but then you had some weird nightmare or something last night and I felt like our regular rule of ‘I cook, you clean,’ was a little shitty.” Tito’s smile is barely there now.

“Such a good husband,” Mat finds himself saying, like it’s oh-so-natural to suddenly begin referring to his best friend as his husband. He’s wearing the ring, anyway.

Tito smiles again, wraps his slightly damp arms around Mat’s shoulders and kisses him. It’s meant to be brief, but if Tito’s playing husband, then there’s no harm in Mat playing along.

Mat’s arms snake around Tito’s center and steady him, like he’s always been his to hold. It’s how they end up making out a little bit longer than they both intend, Tito’s hands tangled in Mat’s hair. It’s also how they end up running out the door in attempts to make practice in time.

***

Hockey, thankfully, is consistently familiar.

Mat doesn’t know what he’d do if he showed up and was told he was the starting goalie that night. But then he sees his stall, untouched. He’s still center, winged by both Tito and Jordan.

It’s even stranger when he thinks about how upside down his world has become and yet this one part of it, for the most part, remains untouched.

When he takes off his practice jersey and tosses it, Mat wonders what else has changed seemingly overnight.

He’s not given much to go on, except for the confirmation that Jordan does, in fact, have a wife and she’s making chicken parm.

“Can you give us a few?” Mat says to Tito, who joins them once he’s finished speaking to the media. Tito opens his mouth, in question, but Mat is quick to put him at ease. “Nothing bad, promise.”

“Okay.” Tito smiles, giving Mat’s arm a singular touch. “Meet you in the car.”

“What’s up?” Jordan asks once Tito is out of an earshot. 

“This is going to sound really fucking crazy—I need you to answer some really, maybe obvious questions and, um, don’t—don’t judge me, okay?” Mat chews on his bottom lip because he knows this can go one of two ways. Jordan can fess up or Jordan can tell him he’s lost his mind.

“Uh, sure?” 

“When did I marry Tito?”

Jordan starts to laugh. Mat can’t blame him, because if he’s really married, it’s a pretty terrible question to ask out of context.

“Is this a test? End of January.” Jordan bites his lip in thought. “I don’t remember the exact date, man. Remembering my own wedding anniversary is tough enough.”

“How long have me and Tito been dating?”

Jordan pauses, in thought. “You two kept that secret for awhile. I found out in November.”

Mat nods and Jordan’s face goes from amused, to confused to slightly worried all in a minutes time. He’s the second person who’s looked at him like something is amiss and maybe, Mat realizes, there is. Jordan’s a pretty mediocre actor, anyway. He’s seen the videos.

“You’re not fucking with me?” Mat needs to double check.

“No,” Jordan says. “I mean I had an idea you two were up to something but—”

“But now everyone knows,” Mat says, quickly. He doesn’t know they know, obviously. He himself apparently didn’t even know until last night.

“Everyone?” Jordan taps himself on the chin. “Just me, my wife and Anders unless—”

“No, that’s all.” It’s a good detail to know, Mat thinks.

He isn’t planning on calling a team meeting or even thinking about coming out. There’s too many details of his life (someone else’s life?) that are foggy, and Mat’s still trying to figure out how he went to bed single and woke up married to his best friend. 

“See you tonight, man,” Jordan says and he laughs, like the conversation they just had was perfectly normal.

Mat wonders how many other times he’s asked Jordan stupid questions for him to remain unphased. It doesn’t help clarify much. Jordan pats Mat on the back, leaves, and Mat’s still the same rookie who plays hockey. 

He has the same friends. Searching his social media provides no clues— that’s the same, too.

Mat doesn’t feel different, except then he gets into Tito’s car and is greeted by one of the most natural kisses he’s ever received. 

It feels… right.

***

Jordan’s wife ends up being friendly, full of life and pretty funny. She has to be to keep up with Jordan, Mat finds himself thinking. She’s motivated, loves music and is an excellent cook.

And before today, Mat has never met her.

Mat feels compelled to dislike her. And yet, try as he might, he can’t. She’s attentive and truly interested in everything Mat or Tito have to say and even makes a point to laugh whenever someone cracks a lame joke.

It’s actually a little funny, he thinks, when Jordan look at her in the same way he’s seen Jordan look at his boyfriend. The one who apparently doesn’t exist in this version of Mat’s story. 

Absolute weirdness aside, Mat has a good time. Tito has a little bit too much wine, but he stays glued to Mat’s side, as happy as ever.

“Thanks again,” Tito says and Jordan’s wife hugs them both.

Mat decides that he likes her, even if he’s convinced that he probably won’t see her again. When he says goodbye, it feels permanent.

“I’m not ready to go home yet,” Tito declares, a bit too loudly, once they get into the car.

“Inside voice,” Mat says. Apparently husband Tito is just as loud as best friend Tito.

“We’re outside, Mathew.”

“We’re inside of a car.” Mat rolls his eyes. “Technically we’re inside.”

“But it isn’t a building. And the car’s outside,” Tito argues, with a grin. 

“Yeah, exactly. The car, not us,” Mat says pointedly. “So like I said, inside voice.”

Tito shakes his head with a laugh, grabs Mat’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Fine, you win, but take me out.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mat says, almost too smug, but then, “Where do you want to go?”

“Surprise me.”

It’s probably a lot to ask of Mat, when his navigation skills are complete shit, so he has to rely strictly on his GPS.

They hop on the train and ride into Brooklyn and Mat goes to the first place that comes to mind— the Brooklyn Bridge.

It turns out to be pretty romantic at night.

Tito stares out at the East River, eyes wide and full of awe. Mat doesn’t have any memories of them there, so he decides to spin Tito around, lean in and create something new.

When they break apart, Tito’s eyes shine.

“Promise we'll come back here and go to that restaurant?” Tito nods in the direction of The River Café, nestled neatly beneath the bridge.

Mat’s heard of the place before. Reservations go quickly based on the location alone and the way Tito stares at it, longingly, tells him they haven't been there yet, either. 

“You like being all romantic and shit, huh?”

“Says the one who took me here just to kiss me,” Tito says with a pleased laugh.

“Fair,” Mat says, because he knows he’s easy when it comes to Tito. “I promise.”

***

As it turns out, game day, when you’re living an alternate life, is pretty spectacular. Mat wants to think that he’d play just as well regardless of where he is, but he ends up with five points at the end of a game that looked as good as over by the second period.

Then, with nine minutes to spare, they erase a four goal deficit and win it 7-6 in overtime.

Mat knows he has to be dreaming even though he alternates between laughing and pinching himself throughout the post game media.

Tito just about launches himself into Mat when they reconnect, kisses him just outside of the now empty locker room and doesn’t stop until they’re breathless. 

“We have to celebrate.” Tito presses his palms on either side of Mat’s cheeks, cups his face and kisses his nose, which Mat finds absolutely ridiculous and yet so Tito.

“Longest honeymoon ever,” Jordan says from somewhere behind them.

In Mat’s defense, he didn’t know Jordan was standing there.

“Shut up.” Mat says with a laugh. “Tito can’t help that he’s soft.”

“Pretty sure he's the opposite,” Jordan says, then wrinkles his nose with the slightest smirk.

Tito’s cheeks turn slightly pink, only to darken when Mat gives an enthusiastic, “nice,” and high fives Jordan.

Once Tito composes himself, they get a group together and head out to their regular bar. It’s crowded, but they’re left alone for the most part, save for a few fans who try and enter their circle.

Jordan buys a round of shots, then Brandon and by the third or fourth, Mat loses count. He’s having a good time, letting loose and it feels so deserved. It’s the second time (since the bridge) that Mat stops trying to figure out how he ended up here. 

He just goes with it.

Both Mat and Tito are pretty stumbly-drunk by the time Jordan sends them off in an Uber. Mat realizes that Tito’s a little bit more gone than he is when he dives into bed and nearly knocks the adjacent lamp over.

“Stay still.” Mat laughs, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing a bottle of water into Tito’s hand.

Tito drinks, much to Mat’s satisfaction. Once he empties the bottle, he lets his forehead fall against Mat’s. 

“Can I get you anything else?” Mat smiles, just barely.

“Kiss me,” Tito says, slurring a bit when he speaks.

Mat knows that Tito’s drunk— Mat’s pretty drunk, too, and therefore any of the common sense he normally carries has long flown out the window. They’re married, he reminds himself, as Tito rests a hand at his waist.

“Okay,” Mat whispers, leans in and he’s a bit off center when he kisses the corner of Tito’s mouth.

Tito laughs. Not his usual open-mouthed and everything-is-funny laugh that everyone gets. It’s small, coy, even and tells Mat that he’s looking for a little more than what he’s given.

“You’re a terrible kisser,” Tito says with a grin.

“Like fuck I am,” Mat replies and kisses Tito like it’s his life’s last task.

Mat doesn’t mean for things to escalate much further, but then Tito kisses his neck, pins him down and his brain short circuits for about the fifth time this week. He thinks his life is pretty well put together— that earlier in the week, he could have easily resisted having sex with Tito, because, yeah, they’re married, but they’re also… not.

But then Tito slips a knee between Mat’s legs, grinds down against him and it’s complicated, but also consensual, so Mat just… goes with it.

There’s nothing romantic or earth shattering about it. It’s rushed, messy, and Mat just about finishes in his pants before Tito even pulls them off. 

“Mat,” Tito says with a laugh, tossing Mat’s pants. “You’re acting like this is the first time we’ve fucked.”

Mat has a flash of something— a memory that wasn’t there before. It’s brief, but to Tito, it’s real.

( _It’s after one of their first dates, or so Mat’s memory tells him._

_“Are you nervous?” Tito settles himself between Mat’s legs, dips down for a kiss and grins against his mouth._

_“Fuck, no,” Mat exhales, hips rocking beneath the weight._

_“Impatient,” Tito says, but then gives him exactly what he wants._ )

Mat rolls his eyes, because if they’ve fucked before, there’s no reason why he can’t play it cool now. And he does, sort of— until Tito fucks Mat, reducing him to a blissed out version of himself.

Tito curls up against him after, a bit sticky, but neither seem to mind. He already knows Tito will drag him out of bed first thing for a shower.

Tito exhales and it’s warm against Mat’s neck, comforting, but stings a bit when Mat thinks about how this can’t be permanent. There’s a big chance he’s just going to end up breaking Tito’s heart. This isn’t his life. He’s bound to wake up sooner or later, and when he does… does he disappear? 

Mat closes his eyes. He tries not to listen to Tito’s breathing as it steadies and ignores the soft sounds telling him that a sleepy Tito is warm and content. Tito’s fingers brush over his stomach, just barely and he feels everything flip about beneath them. It’s a moment that Mat knows isn’t his—one he doesn’t deserve.

“If I disappear,” he whispers, lips pressing Tito’s neck, “I’m sorry.”

***

Several weeks pass.

Mat doesn’t disappear. In fact, he doesn’t go anywhere. 

He falls into his routine as a hockey player and a husband—accepts his life and actually grows to love it. 

Mat discovers that when he looks through old photos, or visits somewhere that Tito has a memory attached to, that a switch in his brain flips on and memories he knows nothing of flood back and become his own. Each day with Tito is an exciting trip through nostalgia and he can’t wait to learn more.

Each day, Mat “remembers” something, he sits Tito down and begins with, “Remember when…”

And each time, Tito nods, smiles and remembers. Because in this world, all of these things have vividly happened.

The season ends. They don’t make the playoffs and while they’re disappointed, Mat is happy to plan a summer filled with sunshine, sand and especially Tito. They plan on revisiting Banff, too, which Mat learns is where they had their belated honeymoon.

***

The day Mat remembers their wedding hits him, _hard_.

 

( _They’re in Vegas, both a little drunk, holding hands and laughing._

_“Are we really doing this?” Mat looks down at Tito’s hand— remembers how tightly it holds on to his._

_“When in Vegas, right?” Tito smiles, soft._

_Mat switches from buzzed to nervous, because it’s fun and it’s light, but it’s also marriage. It’s spontaneous, the two of them standing in mismatched suits, but it’s also something both knew was inevitable. Mat doesn’t doubt it when he straightens Tito’s bowtie and his heart swells and he doesn’t doubt it when Tito ducks his head then feels inclined to do the same._

_“I love you,” Tito mouths before it’s all official._ )

 

It’s Mat’s favorite memory— the same one that could destroy him if it were to suddenly slips through his fingers. It runs through his mind several times that day and convinces him that this is where he was meant to land. 

He absently runs his finger over his ring, watching Tito, so seemingly innocent and carefree, as he lays back in the grass.

“Do you think love is meant to last?” Tito flattens his hand and skims it along the top side of the grass. It reminds Mat of being a kid, curious and full of wonder. It’s like he knows Mat isn’t long for this world.

“Nothing lasts,” Mat says, more cynical than he intends. His life— the one he knew before this is gone. His life, both lives, blur together in his mind and he isn’t sure what’s real or what isn’t anymore.

Tito’s hand freezes. If his eyes were bright and full of hope seconds ago, the telltale signs have dissipated— any trace of aspiration having since faded away. Mat knows he’s to blame.

“You know we’re not going to live forever.” Mat’s only nonchalant because he knows whatever this is isn’t meant to last. He’s bound to wake up, snap back into his reality soon.

“No, obviously,” Tito says, sitting up. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while we’re here.”

“Is that not what we’re doing?” 

“You’ve been a little off lately.” Tito moves closer and their knees bump. “I love you.”

Mat smiles— how could he not, content and heart filled to the brim. It’s all he’s dreamed, now all he has. “Have fun,” Tito’s voice replays in his mind, so true and honest. And Tito’s so right, Mat tells himself, as their mouths move together.

***

Everything changes the night before their vacation.

“All packed?” Mat crawls into bed, settles under Tito’s arm and kisses his cheek.

“Mhm,” Tito says, sleepily.

It begins to rain—soft, steady, but loud enough to be heard against the rooftop. 

“Get some sleep,” Mat says, then curls into Tito.

He falls asleep to the soothing sounds of Tito’s breathing, the rain tapping on the windows, and knows he’s never been happier.

He doesn’t know how long he’s asleep for—maybe an hour or two.

Lighting strikes nearby, lighting up the room. It’s quickly followed by a clap of thunder that startles Mat awake. He’s left chasing his breath in a cold sweat.

The pillow, next to him, is empty without a single a trace that anyone was ever there.

“Tito?”

A beat, then only silence.

Mat holds his breath as he climbs out of bed. Everything’s the same— he thinks. A white t-shirt, his, is hanging over the back of a chair.

 

( _“I’ll take this,” he remembers Tito saying with a laugh when he removes Mat’s shirt and throws it over that very chair._

_“You’re a mess,” Mat says, but smiles._

_“I’m your mess.”_ )

 

He shakes his head, like the sudden movement will jolt Tito back into his life. The picture frames are still there, but any trace of wedding photos are replaced by those of his family. Like before.

“No,” he says, under his breath. His first instinct is the check the kitchen—empty. So he checks every room, one by one, each one just as empty as the last.

Mat is panicking by the time he makes it back to the bedroom. A pinch to his forearm does nothing but sting. He’s already awake.

He checks the clock—3:00 A.M. Three hours before they’re set to leave.

“Tito,” Mat repeats, even though he knows he— and that life, are gone.

***

Mat doesn’t sleep. He sits, listens to the storm, and hopes that whatever happened, wherever he was, he’ll be brought back. But then the clouds must separate and the sounds of the storm dissipate.

His thoughts go to the irrational, like what would happen if Tito—the one he married, wakes up alone. Are they still together, somewhere, or did Mat, inevitably up and disappear, breaking Tito’s heart just as he had feared?

The selfish part of him—the part that spent weeks trying to get back to here instantly regrets it. This Tito, _his_ Tito, doesn’t love him. But maybe this isn’t _his_ Tito. His is gone.

It all fucks with Mat’s head.

 

( _“How could I do it without you?” Tito ruffles Mat’s hair— which he hates, but it’s hard to stay mad when Tito laughs and his eyes crinkle up._

_“I didn't even pass you the puck tonight,” Mat says. “That was all you.”_

_“It felt like it.” Tito smiles. “Your energy was all around me. I heard you yell my name.”_

_“I might have?” Mat doesn’t remember yelling._

_“You told me to go to the net, so I did.”_ )

 

Mat imagines there’s a shift in the universe—it sends him somewhere he doesn't belong and while he’s happy, he’s also, in another world, not.

When the mistake was caught, he woke up.

But maybe, Mat thinks, he was meant to experience what it meant to be truly happy—to take a chance and follow his heart. 

He’s awake, he’s alone. Asleep, awake, this universe or that—none of it matters anymore. He wakes up, where be belongs and knows there’s only one truth that remains.

Mat is in love with Tito.

A singular thought of Tito, smiling at the kitchen sink, tugs at his heart. Maybe, he thinks, it’s the universe that’s been guiding him to Tito all along.

***

Mat invites Tito for lunch. He doesn’t know what to expect, but pulls up not long after and Mat can hear his music playing before he’s out the front door.

“Hey.” Mat slides into the passenger seat and leans, just slightly, as if testing the current normalcy of his life. 

Tito doesn’t lean in—there’s no kiss. There’s no glint of a ring from his hand that’s rested on the steering wheel, either. They’re friends ( _only_ friends), Mat has to remind himself. Whatever happened before, those few days, has since ended.

He wants to think that maybe it was just a glimpse of what could have been, had he made other choices in his life. Tito’s been his constant all year—a nice anchor when things got a little too hectic and new.

His admiration for Tito is stronger than ever, tugging him in a direction that he knows isn’t real. Mat thinks about closing his eyes and slipping back into a world that isn’t meant for him. He does close his eyes, briefly, but is quickly snapped out of it by a playful shove via Tito.

“I said, what do you want to eat?” Tito waves his hand in front of Mat’s face.

“Pasta?” Mat isn’t thinking about lunch anymore.

“Okay,” Tito says, cheerful.

And lunch is like it should be, with them falling into normal conversation. Everything feels as if it’s falling back into place, but then Tito brings up some girl he swiped right on and it throws Mat for a loop.

The newly discovered jealousy lingers throughout the rest of the meal and must resonate in Mat’s tone. When they’re back in the car, Tito doesn’t bother with music.

“Did something happen?” Tito looks at Mat as if he’s trying to read him.

“Nah.” Mat looks away, pretending to be distracted by the hustle and bustle outside. He’s an awful liar, but if the universe hinted at Tito being his soulmate earlier, it sure isn’t now.

 

( _“Look at me,” Tito says softly. He had tilted Mat’s chin up so that their faces were parallel._

_“I’m looking,” Mat whispers in return, taken aback by how Tito’s eyes, fully focused on him make him feel._

_It’s one of the more painful memories. Not because Tito kisses him, soft and sweet, but because when he pulls back and smiles, he fills Mat’s heart with a love that’s no longer his._

_His heart skipped, then, but now it just… hurts._ )

 

“Look at me,” Tito says.

He turns, slow, and tries not to think about how badly he’d like this to end in them kissing. They don’t kiss, again, and Mat has to bite down hard on his own lip to keep from doing it just out of a instinct.

“You’re really weirding me out, bro.” Tito shifts the car into drive, but still keep half of his attention on Mat. “Wanna talk about it?”

And though they talk about everything normally, Mat can’t find the words. There’s no how-to manual or easy way to tell your best friend that you think you’re married in another universe— that you think, maybe, you’d like to eventually explore that option here, too.

So Mat forces a smile and shrugs. “Post-lunch food coma.”

“Um, okay.” Tito doesn’t look like he’s buying it, but doesn’t press.

They go back to Tito’s, end up playing video games for a solid hour, and Mat is pretty sure Tito keeps letting him win. It makes it slightly less fun for Mat, who’s all around competitive, but he appreciates the sentiment.

“God, you suck,” Mat says, laughing when he scores his probably twentieth goal on Tito’s team.

“Not everyone’s in the running for the Calder,” Tito says, tossing something— a sock, at Mat. It bounces off of his head and Tito laughs, which gives him the prime opportunity to score on Mat’s goalie.

“Not everyone is a dirty cheater,” Mat says, looking slightly disgusted.

Video games turns into terrible television and at one point, Tito talks Mat into ordering a pizza. He does, not because he’s whipped or anything, but because he’s hungry, really.

“So, I think,” Tito says, mouth half full of pizza, “since we’re not going to playoffs, we should do something really fun.”

“What’s more fun than playoffs?” Mat sighs, because apparently they suck in all universes.

“Getting really fucking drunk.” Tito grins.

“We’ve done that all year?”

Tito laughs, because it isn’t exactly a lie. “Fair enough,” he says.

“Could be fun, though,” Mat agrees.

So Tito grabs a bottle of Crown Royal and they get started.

“I have to stop,” Mat says through his laughter, when Tito hands him another shot. “How am I supposed to drive home?”

“Stay,” Tito says, like it’s the obvious answer. But Tito downs his shot, throws an arm around Mat’s shoulder and doesn’t know that Mat’s in love with him.

At least he doesn’t until Mat stumbles over his feet and in a moment of weakness kisses him. It’s only a moment before Tito seems to register what’s happening and pushes off.

“Mat.”

“Fuck,” Mat says, taking a step back. “Sorry.”

Tito is silent, thoughtful, and whatever he’s thinking worries the shit out of Mat.

“I’m gonna uh,” Mat begins, taking another step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Then, Tito closes in the gap, slides his arms around Mat’s neck and kisses him—hard.

***

Whatever that night was, neither of them talk about it. Mat is too apprehensive to bring it up and Tito seems to be happy pretending it never happened.

Three days pass and Mat is tired of being anxious, wondering if Tito even remembers any of it.

Then, after practice, while Mat is hanging up his gear, he looks over and catches Tito’s gaze locked in on him.

“Would you go to dinner with me?” Mat knows it’s risky, but Tito is still on a high from scoring the game winner the night before, so Mat, feeling brave, takes a chance.

“Now?” Tito laughs, putting his skates up in his stall.

“Yes, Tito. Dinner at noon,” Mat says with a look that’s far too fond to be annoyed. “Tonight, genius.”

“Oh, well, yeah, why didn’t you just say so?” Tito pulls on his team hoodie with a grin. “Burgers?”

Mat pauses, because of course Tito doesn’t get that it’s a date. They go out to eat so often that it’s almost harder for Mat to hint that he wants to make it into a _date_ date. Maybe, Mat thinks, he forgot that they ended up kissing, after all.

“I made a reservation at The River Café,” Mat starts, his heart suddenly racing. “If, you know, that’s cool.”

“No shit,” Tito says, mouth half open. “The place under the Brooklyn Bridge? That’s—did someone cancel on you?”

“No one cancelled, jeez.” Mat’s face must fall—he doesn’t know what’s worse, thinking that he chose Tito as his back up date, or that Tito thinks someone would bail on him. 

Tito takes two steps forward.

“How,” Tito begins, then looks at Mat, amazed, like he somehow went to great ends to dig up one of his deepest secrets. “How... did you know?”

Mat shrugs, because he knows it’s nothing he can easily explain. “I know you.”

Tito doesn't say yes—he doesn't move at all, really, and it’s the scariest five seconds of Mat’s life.

“Do you—,” is all Mat manages to get out before he finds Tito’s lips on his.

It’s the best “yes,” Mat could ask for.

***

EPILOGUE

 

There’s no Vegas wedding, or any wedding, that summer, but neither seem to mind.

Mat takes Tito somewhere tropical. They sip ridiculously colorful drinks with paper umbrellas, create new memories and not once does Mat think about what _was_. There’s no fear of finding himself somewhere else when he knows this is where he was meant to be.

He learns Tito in new ways and Tito, equivalently, learns him. 

When Mat’s feeling brave, after countless cocktails, and he doesn't wake up anywhere but in his Tito’s arms, he confides in him, telling him all about what ends up being a pretty decent portion of his year in what he thinks is an alternate universe. 

Tito, though initially confused, listens and never once judges him.

“So, it’s like something led you on the right path?”

Mat rolls onto his side, catches Tito’s hand and holds it. “Maybe?”

Tito gives Mat’s hand a squeeze. “And now you’re back here, with me?”

“Yes.” Mat makes it sound so simple.

“I’m glad,” Tito says, smiling. 

And when they kiss, all memories of some other world fade away.

**Author's Note:**

> Parentheses are flashback scenes from the other universe. Untagged minor character mentions: Jordan's wife, Anders Lee and Brandon Davidson.
> 
> Title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qETfaJXx22g).
> 
> Feel free to follow me on twitter @ dejadejayou or titobeauvillier on tumblr!


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